


Density

by dandelionwhiskey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x06, Angst, Depression, M/M, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionwhiskey/pseuds/dandelionwhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel feels heavy with humanity. (9x06 companion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Density

Castiel shoved his hands deep in his pockets, the cold stinging his fingers. He glanced once over his shoulder, the bunker almost hidden behind the trees peppering his path. A dull stinging of sadness settled heavily in his stomach, making each step feel like he was dragging cement. With a weary sigh, he turned back around and kept walking, trying to put the bunker out of his mind.

Dean didn’t give him much. A few shirts, some food from the kitchen, some false ID, and a pat on the back. No directions. No explanation. 

Cas hit the highway after twenty minutes, sticking out his thumb and walking down the interstate. According to the signs, he was heading toward a small town nearby. Castiel assumed that would be perfect; somewhere he could assimilate without too many questions asked. A red sedan picked up him up after a mile, and a woman with kind eyes asked him how he’d gotten himself in this situation.

“I assure you, I had nothing to do with it,” he mumbled angrily. The kind eyes hardened and the rest of the drive was less noisy. 

She dropped him off at the transit station in the town, where Castiel stood awkwardly, watching the teenagers slouched against the plexiglass and the old woman fiddling with the tennis balls on her walker. Was he to hop a bus? Where would it take him? This level of choice made him significantly uncomfortable. 

He left the transit station after the fourth time he was asked for bus change. He tried to explain that he could use some, as well, and mostly he just got laughed at. He decided to walk until he saw some sort of sign. Back in Colorado he’d learned how to sleep on the streets and rely on the kindness of strangers, but he didn’t want to do that again. He found himself scoping out benches and alleys that might be good resting places.

His fists were clenched in frustration. He desperately wanted to sort out the thick, muddy slop of human emotion that he was sinking into. He couldn’t understand why Dean asked him to go, not after he seemed so happy to have him back. It was too confusing. Sam was just as baffled as Castiel, it seemed, but Dean was adamant about his decision. Cas had spent most of his existence just wanting to find somewhere to belong, and to have Dean, of all people, deny him that was maddening.

His stomach grumbled at him, reminding him again of the inconveniences of his new life. His eyes flickered to a gas station across the street, with a sign in the window advertising samples. He put a hand on his stomach and sighed, making his way to the little shop. 

After a few taquito samples and a small chat with the manager, Castiel was lined up for an interview in the morning. She said something about empathizing with wayward souls, something that made Castiel raise an eyebrow. He was trying not to be skeptical, but after the disaster with April and with no Winchesters on his heels, he had to be more careful. 

He spent the night at the library, huddled up in the dusty section that wound toward the back. He wasn’t found until dawn, when he was ushered out with more sympathy than he expected. The librarian even slid a twenty into his palm, telling him to get some food at the grocery store down the road.

Castiel bought a toothbrush and an apple, shoving the change into his baggy jeans and catching his reflection in the double doors before they slid open to let him out. He decided that if Nora were kind enough to offer him an interview, she wouldn’t mind how he looked. He straightened out his rumpled button-up and found a bus bench to eat his apple on, thankful for the warm weather.

His interview went well.

His first day went okay. 

His first week was over before he realized, and he’d slowly gained more responsibilities. 

After his second week at the gas station, Castiel had fallen into his routine. Sleeping in the storage room was cold, but when he swept at night he’d find enough quarters to keep his clothes clean. The solitary life was doing nothing for his mental health, but he had no way to avoid it. Each day his fingers would slide across the number keypad on his cheap cellphone, in the order of Dean’s second burner phone. That was always Castiel’s favorite. 

Each day, though, he remembered how Dean had abandoned him. And his phone would end up back in his pocket, forgotten. He read the newspapers, kept an eye out for angels, ate gas station food and drank from the mug he’d been gifted by the company. He could sense Nora’s gentle concern but he did his best to ignore it. He just wanted to fit in.

It was two weeks when Castiel was leaning up against the concrete wall of the storage room, sitting on the cold floor with his legs tucked underneath him, when he started to wonder what he was doing. He angrily kicked a foot out, knocking the mop noisily to the ground, and ducked his head into his hands. He’d felt sadness and frustration as an angel, but the amount of hopelessness that consumed him was crushing. He never knew it could feel this way. This devastating emptiness was all-encompassing, and despite feeling like nothing he felt heavier than he ever had in the past.

Dean showed up that day. The day he had his not-date, when Ephraim found him and told him his pain rang loudly for miles. He was hard-pressed to ignore that, even as he slid the angel blade Dean tossed him deep between his ribs. When he sat next to Dean in the impala, quietly, his hand throbbing from the rose thorns, his eyes dropped to his lap.

“Cas?” Dean asked. “I said ‘where to?’”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas answered honestly. “I’m sleeping at the gas station.”

“You’re what? Aw, c’mon, man,” Dean sighed. Cas clenched his fists at his sides.

“Where would you expect me to go?” He asked as Dean started up the car. This was Dean’s fault. Castiel could be sleeping in the bunker instead of the back room of the Gas N’ Sip, but Dean had asked him to leave. Why couldn’t he see that? When Cas turned to glare at Dean, it became very clear that he could. 

Dean looked devastated. He was staring down at the steering wheel, his fingers flexing against the rubber. Castiel softened a little, relaxing back against the seat beneath him. Castiel felt inexplicably guilty for making Dean wear that expression, even though it originated with Dean.

“Just tell me why I had to go,” Castiel said, and it sounded suspiciously like begging. Dean grit his teeth, pulling the impala out onto the main road. “Tell me why I had to leave the bunker, Dean.”

“I can’t,” Dean said, strained. “Just, you gotta be with me on this one, Cas. It’s better for all of us.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “This is better for me? Better than what?”

“Better than dead,” Dean growled, but Castiel felt that may have been an exaggeration. 

“I’m not dead, Dean,” he said gently. “April brought me back.” Dean didn’t reply. He pulled up into a motel and yanked her into park, hesitating before getting out of the car. Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion, stepping out of the car. “Why are we here, Dean?”

“So you can get a decent night’s sleep, and a shower,” Dean mumbled. Castiel obediently followed Dean to the room, where he was met with two full beds and Dean shoving a cold beer into his hands. “Drink.”

They didn’t talk much. They drank beer, Dean glowered, and Castiel marinated. He knew there were more layers to whatever was going on, but in his experience keeping lies like this never ended well. But Dean had asked for his trust, and Castiel was nothing if not loyal. After some time, he looked up from his amber ale with a watery smile.

“Despite the nature of the case, it was good to work again,” Castiel said. Dean met his eyes, but his expression remained neutral.

“Yeah?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. If anything like this arises again, I’ll be sure to call you again.”

Dean broke out in a small grin. “What, you don’t think you could handle it on your own?” 

Castiel allowed himself a half-smile as well. “I can’t tell the difference between a date and a job offer,” he joked. Dean shook his head, clinking the neck of his beer against Castiel’s.

“Welcome to the ever infuriating world of women, buddy,” he laughed. The smile may have just slipped from Cas’ lips as they shared a moment, then, the errant thought that occurred to them both simultaneously. They continued to watch each other, Cas tearing at the label on his bottle, Dean’s eyes narrowed and searching.

“Dean-” Cas began, but was cut off as Dean stood up, taking a few steps back from Castiel. Cas hunched his shoulders, again feeling that unexplainable guilt.

“Would that make you happy, Cas?” Dean asked, unloading an anvil of confusion onto Castiel shoulders. He took a moment to process Dean’s words, blinking slowly. Dean was apparently unwilling to wait, however, and before Castiel was able to understand what was happening Dean was so close to him, hands on Cas’ arm rests, his eyes hovering too close.

Castiel swallowed thickly, taking in Dean’s subtle tremor. He slowly lifted a hand and rested in on Dean’s wrist, holding his gaze for a moment. He considered the question. He drew his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it as he thought. He leaned forward, watching Dean’s pupils dilate, and he sighed.

“No,” he answered, and Dean frowned. “I don’t think it would make me happy, considering our track record.” Dean started to laugh, surely thinking up a thousand responses when Cas fisted his good hand into the front of Dean’s shirt and pulled him in, pressing their lips together. Dean hardly moved, but he was so warm and right there and Castiel could feel the prickle of his stubble under his lip. 

He leaned back, looking at Dean’s half-lidded eyes. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he was absolutely sure it wasn’t a good idea. Going down this path with Dean would only end in pain for them both. He cupped the side of Dean’s cheek, trying to ignore the way Dean leaned into it.

“If it won’t make you happy-” Dean started, clearly questioning, but Castiel cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said firmly. “I make a habit of doing things against my better judgment. I believe this counts.” 

Dean laughed this time, a real laugh, and kissed Castiel again. It was different than kissing a girl, at least different than kissing April, and Cas found it exploded so much more baffling emotion in his gut than he could have expected. He felt like he was sinking and he desperately grabbed at Dean’s shirt, his arms, his face, anything to keep him afloat.

Dean’s hands were on him as well, tender on his chest where he’d been stabbed the month before, despite the wound being long gone. He imagined Dean was picturing his death and pleased at him being here, warm and alive underneath his hands. 

At some point, Castiel stood up and was wrapped into Dean’s arms, and then he was lying down and wrapped up in Dean’s arms, and then they were still, just as the sun peeked in through the window. Cas ran his fingers along the streaks of buttery yellow striping across Dean’s bare stomach through the blinds. Dean slept quietly, something Castiel already knew, but he slept more soundly with someone else in the bed next to him, something Castiel learned.

He was supposed to get a full night’s rest, but he knew Dean would be leaving come morning, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He slid his hand up Dean’s arm, resting over his faded handprint. Dean stirred, blinking his eyes open, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Mmm?”

“I have to go to work,” Castiel said, surprised by how gravelly his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. “I’m opening today.”

Dean slid out of bed with a yawn, running fingers through his bedhead. “Cas,” he said. Castiel waited for him to continue, but he clearly was hoping to be interrupted. He didn’t have anything to say. Cas just smiled at him, standing and pulling on his clothes. Once they were dressed, He stood in front of Dean and ducked away from the hunter’s attempted kiss.

“No,” Castiel said, smiling sadly. “That’s okay. Don’t do that.”

Dean clenched his jaw and nodded, straightening out Castiel’s shirt. 

The drive back was silent. Castiel let Dean fumble through his apology and he nodded. They waved, and Dean was gone, and Cas was filling coffee urns.

He stood up straight, the tangle of feelings in his stomach sitting still and placated. Despite his lack of sleep, his forgetting to shower, the uncertainty of his future, Castiel didn’t feel heavy. He felt like he could fly again.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://dandelionwhiskey.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
